


myosotis

by crossingwinter



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: Ben picked the flowers for their wedding.





	myosotis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rissanox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rissanox/gifts).



> Prompt 1. Them and flowers (flower crowns, flower fields, Ben giving Rey flowers/plants, literally anything)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Rey has never much cared about her hair.

It’s brown and bland and doesn’t maintain a curl, no matter what she does.  Into a ponytail it goes, or a bun, or something that doesn’t require attention at all.  

So she sits very, very still as the stylist pins and sprays her hair into place.  She weaves forget-me-nots into each fold and pins them into place with bobby pins that have little fake pearls glued on the ends of them.  Rey stares at the little blue flowers. They seem to make her hair sparkle.

The stylist takes a step back and asks her, “Well?”

Rey can’t think of words though.  She just nods, and blinks tears out of her eyes and next it’s a makeup artist who is going to just powder her up lightly.  (Rey doesn’t care about skin care either. It had taken her until three months ago to learn that you’re supposed to use different soap for your face than for the rest of your body.)

Then Rose and Jess and Kaydel help her into her dress and when she finally looks in the mirror, she feels like she can’t breathe.

_ That’s me,  _ she thinks as she looks at herself.  It’s almost impossible to believe. That piece of art she sees there with flowers in her hair--that’s Rey.  That’s an abandoned dumpster rat.

And immediately, Jessika steps forward with a tissue.  “You’re not supposed to cry until you see him,” she teases.

Rey gives her a watery smile.  She hadn’t realized she was welling up, but she shouldn’t be surprised.  Everything’s been making her feel emotional lately. The pressure of organizing a wedding, the reality that she’s actually getting married, the unsettling realization that she’s happy, that she’s peaceful, that she’s never been both of those things at once and yet she is, somehow.

Han comes in carrying a large box, and Rey’s heart catches in her throat.  “Ready?” he asks her, and she nods, and he opens it.

She’d asked Ben to pick her flowers.  At the time, it had seemed like a practical decision: Rey loves flowers--every single flower--she wants all of them always.  That had made it hard to narrow down the decision. “You pick,” she had said, and he had nodded. Which was why she’d been surprised by the forget-me-nots.  

The bouquet is simple--large white peonies and delicate white roses mixed with little blue forget-me-nots.  Han hands it to her.

“You like it?” he asks as she traces her fingers over the satin wrappings round the stems.

“Yes,” she says softly.

“Good, because he was a mess trying to figure it out,” Han chuckles.  “I don’t think he’d ever thought of a flower in his life until he met you.”

Rey laughs.  She doesn’t doubt that’s true.  

The next few minutes are a blur and Rey knows that she’ll never--as long as she lives--have a clear memory of them.  But she doesn’t care about that. She doesn’t need to have a clear memory of everything that happens so long as she remembers Ben’s face as she walks towards him on his father’s arm, carrying a bouquet of flowers he’d chosen for her because she can never choose flowers--that’s the only thing she wants to have a clear memory of. 

And she will.

His mouth is slightly open, his eyes are that too-bright of unfallen tears, and he’s standing so very still, as though afraid to move lest he break it the spell.  And she wants to kiss him the moment that she reaches the front of the aisle, but she knows she can’t just yet, so instead she takes his hand and squeezes it and he squeezes it right back.

“You picked perfectly,” she tells him quietly as Finn adjusts the music stand he’s using to hold his notes on.

Ben’s eyes are still overbright as he looks down at her.  “Yeah, I did,” he tells her, and a shiver runs up her spine because she knows he’s not talking about the flowers.


End file.
